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"Although I was content to lay right in this bed the last few days," I begin, "I will not lay here any longer without a shower with your sexy self sitting beside me."
He wiggles his brows. "I volunteer as a bather."
I laugh. "As enticing as that sounds, I need to wash all this sick off of me."
He sighs dramatically. "I'll just lay here, being sexy, then, I guess."
"Oh, because it's so hard?"
"It is. Takes a lot of work."
I roll my eyes and turn to head to the bathroom. The moment I close the door, I let my head fall back against it, all the emotions I've barely been containing all morning, hell, from the moment he walked into my bedroom, hurtling forward, overwhelming me, crushing me. I tuck my lips between my teeth to hold back a sob. No, not yet. Not until he leaves and my heartbreak is finally complete.
I take longer than I need to in the shower, but eventually, my body and hair are washed, and the water is beginning to run cold. I turn it off, and step out, wrapping a towel around myself and stilling, looking at the closed door. Jackson is just on theother side of it, waiting for me, with a smile for me, maybe even that laughter that makes it hard to breathe.
And then a worse thoughts hits me. In my rush to get into the bathroom, away from his eyes, his presence, I forgot to bring any clothes with me.
"Damn it," I murmur to myself.
Closing my eyes, I repeat to myself all the things that I need, desperately need, to remember once I set eyes on him again. I love him but cannot. I want him but can never keep him. I need him but must let him go. Once those words are surrounding me like brick walls, a barrier between my heart and Jackson, I open the bathroom door.
The moment Jackson’s eyes land on me, his smile is instant. I wish I could help the way it softens all my defenses I just painstakingly erected on the other side of this door. I wish that when he has the audacity to bring his hands up, fingers going behind his head as I walk to the dresser, as if he's getting ready for a show, it doesn’t make heat rush through my body. I wish I didn’t long for just one more time with him. One more time with him between my thighs. One more time with his hand on my throat. One more time with the feeling of his lips on mine.
Don’t I deserve to have that, to give myself some pleasure knowing full well all the pain I will feel the moment he leaves? Don’t I deserve some bliss in exchange for all the hurt I felt lying in his arms last night? Don’t I deserve something in return for the way my heart aches each time I look at him now? I know it’s all a lie, excuses my body is making up to allow me to fuck him one last time. But… I find the lies easier to bear than the walls I’m trying to hold steady around my heart.
I look over my shoulder at him, find him smirking at me, waiting to see what I’ll do. Knowing, with everything inside of me, that Ishould tell him to go, to leave right now, I instead arch a brow at him, telling him that if he wants a show, I'll give him one.
I open my top drawer, pull out a light pink thong, give it a twirl around my finger, humming with false indecision. I put it back, getting a pair of black panties instead. I go through a few bras, making sure that he can see each one, until I settle on a lacy one with strips that criss-cross in the front. Then I turn around to face him, just in time to see him adjusting himself in his pants.
I shake my head with a smile. "You've let me work you up for absolutely no reason."
That brow arches again. "What gives you that idea?"
"Uh, I'm... sick."
"Hmm, you don't seem that sick to me today. And like I told you..." He gets up, out of the bed, and begins walking toward me. "I don't get sick. But..." Damn it, he steps closer and flashes that sexy ass grin. "I can be a sick person."
Chapter 12
A shiver races down my spine, and Jackson’s smirk tells me he doesn't miss it. Heat rushes through me, all seeming to settle at my bare pussy, making me all too aware of just how ready I am for him to take me. I lick my lips at just the thought of any part of him between my thighs, and his eyes track my tongue's movement. Then, in an instant, his face changes, from smiling to stern, and I know playful Jackson is gone. In his place is the man who makes me give him control over every inch of me, whether I want to or not.
He shoots forward and before my gasp has even fully left my lips, his mouth is there, stealing the sound from me while his hands push against my shoulders. My back painfully collides with the dresser, it's handles digging into my skin, but I can't focus on that when his tongue is demanding entry into my mouth, intruding past my lips so I have no choice but to submit to our kiss and open for him. But, as good as it feels, my guilt is present, telling me that I shouldn't be doing this. I told myself the last time was the last time. In my heart, I've already said my goodbye to him. I whispered my final words to him last night. I have to stop this.
One more time. Just one.My heart and body both beg me.
All my inner protestations don’t seem to matter much when his lips break away from mine to move to my neck. His tongue draws circles on my skin right before his teeth leave marks that I’m sure will torture me to see in the mirror later.
No, no.My mind shouts, but my body sighs,yes, yes.
I’m weak, so I give in to my body, arching my neck for him, giving him more to kiss, more to suck. His hands move from my shoulders, down my arms, tearing my bra and panties from myhands before going to my hips and tilting them forward so I can feel his cock rubbing against me. And I know, I know, there’s no turning back now. So I have to make this all that my last time fucking him should be.
Fight him with everything I have, make him hurt me, bruise me, punish me for the lie I'm letting us commit. Make this last time the best time. I need to give this to myself. A memory, to keep with all the others, to have for all the nights I will spend alone after this. For all the times I’ll yearn to be in his arms later on. For the times my body and heart will beg for just a touch from him, even when it knows they can’t have it.
His lips come back to mine, but I rip my mouth away, anxious for him to make me regret it. It only takes a second for my want to be fulfilled. His hand shoots up to my jaw, fingers clenching the skin there so roughly, my inner cheek rubs against my teeth.
"Who do you think you are?" he growls. "You think you can just tease me and not give me anything for it?"
"Get your hands off of me," I spit, shoving against his chest.
